


What You Ordered

by stripperisms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Consensual Underage Sex, Dirty Talk, Light BDSM, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stripperisms/pseuds/stripperisms
Summary: Tony places the order, Peter delivers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta, jf4m :D
> 
> Also to the tumblr post that I can no longer locate that suggested an escort fic where Tony/Peter are unaware until it's too late.

“Have a good night Mr. Stark!”

“You too, kid.” He smiles as he watches the boys retreating figure, glancing down at his watch.

“How long until I need to leave to get my order, Fri?”

“1 hour and 37 minutes, boss.”

He sighs, moving back upstairs to pour himself a drink, pad in hand—he gulps down what’s left in the glass at the table as he stares at his order.

  1. _Brunette. Slender. Brown eyes. Special Requests? Be waiting on the bed, boxers only, blindfolded._



An entire weekend with just him and Peter, well, with the occasional interruption from Happy. To say Tony was frustrated was an understatement, if he didn’t know better he’d say the kid was teasing him. Coming up for breakfast in nothing but his _Iron Man_ boxers, making those downright filthy noises anytime he ate something remotely good. Tony needed a release, and this would do it, he’d get what he needed, maybe have his escort call him ‘Mr. Stark’ for good measure, and then he’d go back to normal.

He wasn’t acting on those urges, he was curbing them, this was okay, and this was _healthy._

He arrives at the hotel a little early, picking up his room key at the desk with a nod and moving to the bar to kill the last 30 or so minutes, didn’t want to show up too early and have his boy not be waiting like promised.

He’s halfway through a gin and tonic when he glances up and sees the back of what looks to be a boy, maybe 18 with brown hair walking towards the elevator. Tony’s not salivating, he’s not. He’s too tempted by the prospect of seeing his face that he can’t look away, can’t wait for the surprise later in the room as the boy literally hops on the elevator and turns around to push his floor, and well, if nothing else, he _is_ surprised.

Peter.

Peter fucking Parker.

Just because Peter is at this exact hotel, at this exact moment doesn’t mean that Peter’s here for him, he could be here for anything. Studying. He could be here to study. With his friends. That couldn’t afford this hotel if they sold everything they owned.

Fuck.

Tony’s already in the elevator and hitting the button before he can think better of it, 17 minutes early, so if it really is Peter then he’ll catch him before he gets undressed. Chastise him and send him on his way. No. Figure out why he’s doing this then fix it. That’s it, he’ll fix it. He’s good at fixing things.

Tony hasn’t been standing in front of the door for 7 minutes, really he hasn’t. 8:50 PM is glaring at him from his watch, if he waits 10 more minutes _maybe_ Peter will be blindfolded and waiting for him on the edge of the bed.

Fuck.

He opens the door and wishes he would’ve just beat off in the shower like a blue collar man. Like a man who didn’t have money to waste on an overpriced hooker.

“Peter?”

“I, uh, you I mean, Mr. Stark?” the tone of his voice could only be described as pre-pubescent teen who isn’t 18 and shouldn’t be in this room, and shouldn’t be standing there in his very tight not-hiding anything boxers, silk blindfold clutched in his fist.

“What are you doing?” That’s an all-encompassing question right? Why are you in this hotel? Why are you half naked? Why are you whoring yourself out for dirty old men?

“It’s just, I’m here with a friend and I’m, uh, getting dressed.”

“Let me stop you there, Pete. How about we don’t lie, okay?” The anger feels like it just came out of left field but suddenly he wonders how many times the kid has worn that blindfold. “How long as this been going on?”

“Just this year.”

“It’s September, Pete, that’s 9 months! Why the fuck are you doing this? Is it money? What do you need the money for?” Nine months. Nine months of hanging around him nearly every weekend, laughing, joking, blushing when he talked about finding Peter a girlfriend (or boyfriend) and the entire time he’s been doing **this**.

“I’m almost done Tony. A few more months and May will be okay.” The ‘ _I will be okay’_ goes unsaid, but it’s there. He wants to ask what that means, he wants to fix this but all he can focus on is what the what, not the why.

“No. You won’t. None of this will ever be okay, you’re a kid—what you’ve been doing—what they did to you.” He’s starting to sound like Peter now, skipping over words, unable to finish his train of thought. He brushes past Peter and grabs the glass of scotch already poured for him, the glass _Peter_ must have poured for him. He drinks half of it and turns to face Peter, anger renewed “Jesus Christ Peter—”

“No one did anything to me, Tony. Think about it: you ordered **me**. You knew who you ordered was going to be young, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Tony looks ready to argue but Peter’s not done, “So if it was some other random kid from Queens, you’d what, be fine with it?”

 _No, it wouldn’t,_ Tony thinks _, but at least it wouldn’t be you. I know I’m a monster, kid, and I could live with knowing that when I was the only one who knew._

“Fine. Ok. You win.” Tony knocks back the last of his drink and starts moving towards Peter. How many was that tonight? Five? Six? “If it looks like a whore,” he’s closing fast “smells like a whore,” he reaches out and grabs Peter’s shoulders pulling him in roughly, “and tastes like a whore.” Tony’s got his tongue halfway down his throat now, hands bruising into his arms, teeth knocking together. He shoves his leg between Peter’s and grinds up harder than what could possibly be comfortable, hand moving from his arm to the back of his neck.

If he’s honest, and he’s not, Peter tastes just like he imagines, sweet and—salty? Jesus when did Peter start crying?

Well, if he’s _really_ honest, it’s the fist that connects with his jaw that is even more like he imagined, though he expected it from May for defiling her nephew at some point.  He works his jaw, looking up from where his ass is now firmly planted on the cold tile.

“Fuck. You.” Peter has this look, like he knows something Tony doesn’t, and yeah, he probably does—but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. What Peter is saying now is definitely important, and something he feels strongly about because he’s waving his arms around and pointing at Tony angrily. He’s only catching every third word or so, “hate”, “asshole”, and _oh_ “pedophile” that one stung a little more than he would’ve thought.

He wonders if he would have reacted differently to Peter being his escort tonight, maybe if he’d been able to temper his shitty jealous streak, if this night could’ve gone differently. Maybe he’d have Peter on his back right now, legs securely around Tony’s shoulders with nothing between them but—“Are you even hearing me right now?” _Not really, kid_ he thinks but then Peter looks like steam might start coming out of his ears and now he’s fully aware he said that out loud.

“I loved you.” He heard that. He definitely heard that, even the past tense of it all. “I always thought you’d eventually see me like,” Tony watched the tears really start to fall, catching the hiccup as Peter continued, “Like you saw Steve or Pepper, and I know how naïve that sounds. Why would you ever pick me over them?”

“Pete…” He wants to say that of course he’d pick him, that it wasn’t even a question for him anymore. But he doesn’t.

“What? Oh I’m sorry you’re right I cut you off earlier. You want to finish what you started? What was it, I ‘look like a whore, smell like one, and taste like one?’ Right? So I must be one?” Man, the kid had a knack for emotions, moving from anger to sadness to longing, and all the way back around in a matter of seconds. “Nothing to say, _Mr. Stark?_ ”

Using his surname shouldn’t feel like that, when Peter says Mr. Stark it sounds like a revelation, like Tony is everything he ever wanted him to be. Now it just made him feel like shit. Because all he wanted was Peter. Because he was an awful, horrible excuse for a mentor. “You’re not a whore Peter, I never should’ve said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“But we can’t pretend this is okay, Pete.” He’s rising from the ground now, trying to keep what little distance there is between them, “You’re 16 years old kid, and lying saying that you’re 18—it’s…it’s rape, Peter, what they’re doing.”

Peter laughs, and it’s the bitterest sound he thinks he’s ever heard, “You just had your tongue jammed down my throat, should we call that assault then?” Spiderman’s a good name for him, because the kid has become downright venomous.

“I—fuck yes, Peter, it was.”

“Sergeant Barnes didn’t have a problem with it.”

Well, fuck. “What the fuck did you just say?” So much for that space, because now Tony is very aware of the heat radiating from Peter’s half-dressed body as he gets close again.

Peter’s smirking now, “I fucked Barnes. Well, I should say, Barnes fucked me. Twice.” Tony wished it stopped there, but when does he ever get what he wants. “I guess he was here working or something, needed to unwind. So he ordered me ‘hot and ready like a Pizza’ he said.” Peter’s leaning into Tony’s space now, his very valuable space “He really liked the way I—”

“Stop.” Anxiety attacks fucking suck.

To Peter’s credit he’s pretty sure that’s a look of instant regret on his face. His hand reaching out like he’s trying to comfort Tony, but thinking better of it and giving the older man his space. “He’s an assassin Peter, a murderer! What if he—he could’ve, _fuck_.”

It seems like an eternity later but Peter’s still there, bottle of water in hand calling his name “Tony…Tony can you hear me?” He vaguely thinks he hears an apology but that can’t be right because what on early could Peter have to apologize for? How did he end up on the bed? Christ did Peter pick him up?

“I never should’ve said that, I know he’s a trigger for you, I just wanted—” Peter trails off and Tony takes the bottle of water from his hands, lips tugging up into a fake smile, nodding.

“You wanted to hurt me, I get it.” Tony sits up, and scoots over patting the spot next to him. “Please just talk to me Pete, tell me this is going to end. Now.”

“Tony I can’t…” Peter looks conflicted, eyes downcast, red rimmed eyes ready to start pouring with tears again.

“Yes you can, whatever it’s for I don’t care, no more. I’ll give you whatever money you need for whatever the issue is. Tell me or don’t, all I need is the amount.” This is it, Peter will tell him the amount of money he needs, Tony will pay it, and they’ll pretend this never happened.

“I can’t just take your money, Mr. Stark.” If Tony thought being called Mr. Stark again would feel good, he was wrong.

“Yes. Yes you can. I give. You take. It’s easy as pie.”

“Yeah…yeah I guess so.” It sounds like acceptance but Tony knows the fight is far from over, “Tony, about Barnes…”

“Hey, you don’t owe me anything, not when it comes to that.” He stops short of saying _I don’t want you to tell me._

“I, uh, I didn’t know it was him. At least not until it was too late to say no.”

Tony is the adult. Tony is the fucking adult. This is where he steps up into his role and says ‘there’s no such thing as too late to say no’. That consent can be taken way at any time. Instead all that comes out is Peter’s name, raspy and broken.

“He ordered me um, he ordered me gift wrapped.” Tony knows what that means, because Tony is an awful excuse for what a human being is supposed to be, and he’s been on the website before, explored their _options_. He ordered Peter blindfolded and half naked, but now he’s thinking about having Peter trussed up like Barnes did. Spreader bar keeping his toned thighs apart, tied up and waiting for him, oh he’d read the description, he’d thought about it, plug of choice nestled nicely between the boys cheeks, puffy lips spread around the ball gag. But Tony likes the work of opening up his partner before they get started, the whimpers, the begging, the only gift wrapping he wanted was to be done by him. Peter’s voice snaps him out of his spreader-bar induced day dream.

“I guess I hadn’t heard his voice much back in Germany and he was uh, already inside me when the blindfold came off.” Peter’s rambling now which means he’s anxious and Tony feels his stomach drop “I wasn’t sure if Cap was right and he was actually a good guy, or if I freaked out and he somehow figured out I was Spiderman he’d strangle me in the…position I was in, and if May found me like that I think she’d figure out a way to bring me back and then murder me again.” He’s laughing now, but Peter looks absolutely wrecked.

When he kisses Peter this time, it’s slow and gentle, his thumb rubbing against his cheek bone, breaking the kiss and pulling Peter into a hug. “I’m so sorry, kid.” He’s sorry for a lot of things, so he doesn’t go into detail, and Peter just nods.

“I…Mr. Stark I’ll take your money and uh, I’ll stop escorting.” Tony lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the how much doesn’t matter so he doesn’t ask, just grabs Peter’s hand a little tighter. “But I’ll only take it as a payment…for…for what you ordered.”

Tony has the arc reactor, he realizes his heart didn’t just actually stop, but it sure as hell felt like it. “Pete…”

“Please, _Mr. Stark_ , I know what you ordered, and there’s only one reason you’d be that specific.” Suddenly Tony has a lapful of Peter, and _fuck_ if it’s not everything he ever wanted. Peter chooses this moment to grind down into his lap, **hard** _,_ “Please, sir.”

_Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta, again, jf4m :D

_-_

Tony spends the next 30 seconds debating the options in front of him, hands hovering around Peter’s hips, close enough to feel the warmth. If they do this there’s no going back, not for Tony at least, he can’t start this and expect to feel nothing, want nothing. “Peter. I need you to be sure.” The kid chooses that moment to let out what could only be described as the filthiest moan he’s ever heard.

“I’m sure Mr. Stark, I’ve wanted you since the moment you invited me to Germany. I had this fantasy that you’d come into my hotel room, and fuck me on the balcony. You’d tell me to be quiet so Happy wouldn’t come in and see us,” he has him now, there’s no more being smart about this, just him and Peter, and the blindfold.

He grabs Peter by the waist and hauls him to the other side of the bed, letting him fall down with a bounce before removing himself, finding his way to the last of his drink. Peter glances at him at him, looking a little hurt, maybe a little irritated “Mr. Star—”

“I liked sir better.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy is quick, Tony can appreciate that.

“You said I was going to get what I ordered. I remember making a very specific request.” Tony motions to the discarded blindfold on the tile, moving to take a seat on the chair adjacent from the bed. Waiting.

Peter is silent as he slides off the bed, feet quiet on the floor as he walks over to the blindfold, once it’s in his hand Tony watches the boy take a deep breath and move back towards the end of the bed. He climbs on the edge and positions himself on his knees before bringing the silk up to his eyes and tying it behind his head.

Tony stays silent, observing the boy from the chair, watching his chest rise and fall, his hands twitching from what Tony hopes is excited anticipation against his knees. When he rises from the chair he’s sure with Peter’s attuned senses he can hear him, quiet as he tries to be while he circles to the bed, predator stalking his prey.

He reaches out, running his hand down the boy’s neck, enjoying the resulting shiver that followed, “Are you going to be good for me, Peter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you sure Peter? You’ve been so bad before. The incident with the ferry, letting other people touch you…” Tony lets his hand slip from his neck down to the tent forming in Peter’s boxers, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry sir, I’ll…I’ll be better, I’ll do better I promise.” Peter worries his lip with his teeth “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, huh?” Tony slips his hand inside and grips Peter’s erection, “don’t make promises you can’t keep, Pete.”

Peter gasps, and cants into Tony’s hand “I can keep it, I can, anything you want Mr-sir, anything.”

“Fuck yourself into my hand, baby—as wet as you are I don’t think you need much help.” Peter’s pre-cum slicks the way enough, but Tony imagines he’s feeling a fine line between pain and pleasure with the rough grip he keeps. Peter doesn’t disappoint, he fucks into Tony’s hand with everything he has, right on the edge—“Don’t cum yet. Nothing without permission. You don’t want to disappointment me again do you?”

Peter nearly sobs before the words fall out of his mouth, “No, sir.”

“Good, I didn’t tell you to stop, move your fucking hips.” Peter hesitates a split second before moving again. Tony shifts on his feet, leaning down just enough so he can lick at Peter’s neck, nipping at the vein.

“Did you think about me?” Tony asks giving his neck one final lick, he waits a beat and then thinks he’ll need to elaborate, but Peter’s quick to catch on.

“Every time, sir.” He doesn’t stop moving his hips, “I always thought of you, even when I wasn’t blindfolded, I always wanted it to be you.”

“Tell me what you want me to do, Pete.” Tony takes a step back, “Tell me what you want me to do, to _you_.”

“I…I want you to fuck me, sir.”

“Mmm, that’s not going to cut it kid. Try again.”

“I want to feel your mouth on me.” He says it so fast that Tony has to think about it, “I thought about how it would feel to have your beard….down there.” There’s a small part of him that’s concerned that Peter can’t even speak the words, but not enough to stop him.

“Lie back.” Peter unfolds his legs and lets them fall over the edge of the bed, slowly leaning back until he connects with the mattress.

Tony moves closer and brings his hands to Peter’s hips, slipping his fingers under the hem of his boxers and pulls down, letting them slip to the floor. He leans in and presses a wet kiss under the boy’s belly button, trailing down until he reaches his erection. “You thought about me blowing you when I came into your room to invite you to Germany? Getting down on my knees as payment for your services?” Before he can answer Tony takes him into his mouth, running his tongue on the underside of his cock, sucking hard.

Peter groans out something Tony can’t quite make out so he pulls off, “Was that a yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony smiles and moves back down, kissing his inner thigh before biting down just enough to leave a mark. He moves back in and takes him down to the root, swallowing around him just to hear the curses Peter howls out at the sudden move. Tony's sure they're quite the picture, him in a full three-piece suit with the kids cock down his throat, Peter naked on the bed trying to fuck up into his mouth. He tries not to think about how many times Peter has had this done to him before, how many other men had him writhing on the bed, practically begging for more.

Tony has no shame for how hard this is making him, moving his free hand to his own cock, rubbing through his pants. He pulls off with a pop and moves back up the bed to take Peter’s mouth, licking against his teeth, hand curling in his hair. Tony thinks of all the things he wants to do to him in that moment, lick him open, finger him until he cries, but he settles on getting a show.

He moves to the bedside table grabbing a bottle of lube before placing it in Peter’s hand. “Start with one, I’ll let you know when to add more.”

When Peter doesn’t respond Tony swats his thigh. A quick and sharp “Yes, sir!” and then Peter is moving, pulling his legs up to give Tony a good view of his hole.

Tony drags the chair to the end of the bed, waiting for the boy to start.

Peter doesn’t reach for the blindfold, just opens the lube and pours some into his right hand before reaching around to tease himself before slipping one finger in to his first knuckle. He whimpers as he pushes deeper, bottoming out and then slowly pulling back. “Aren’t you just as pretty as a picture?” The smile evident in Tony’s voice. “I don’t know who you’ve been with, but one finger isn’t going to cut it. I’m going to need you to stretch out that pretty little hole for me, baby. Add a second finger.”

The ‘yes, sir’ that follows is like clockwork now, obeying Tony’s every word—pleasing him. Peter slips in a second finger and moves his hips down, fucking himself onto his own fingers. “How does it feel?”

“Tight,” he mumbles “feels full.”

“Two fingers and you feel full? Oh, sweetheart.” Tony makes sure Peter can hear the sound of him undoing the button on his pants and unzipping his fly. “Take your fingers out, and stand up.”

Peter whines as he removes his fingers and moves to stand. Once he’s steady on his feet he moves his hands up to remove the blindfold, “I didn’t say take it off. I know you can hear my voice, follow it.” Even with his ‘dialed to eleven’ senses the boy looks nervous, “Right this way, baby, come on.” Tony reaches out and grabs onto Peter’s waist, pulling him until he gets the idea and straddles his lap, knees digging awkwardly into the side of the chair. He runs his hands up and down the boy’s sides, leaning in to take one of his nipples into his mouth, biting just hard enough to hear Peter gasp.

“The things I want to do to you, kid.” He moves his hand back to Peter’s erection, pulling softly before leaning up to kiss the boy.

“Could I—” Peter stops himself and bites at his bottom lip, “Sorry, sir.”

Tony laughs, “I didn’t say you couldn’t talk, Pete. Could you what?” He asks, lazily pumping away at Peter’s cock.

“I want to taste you sir, please.” Tony makes a noise that he can’t say he’s ever made before, somewhere between a moan and whine, probably.

“You can’t just say stuff like that, Christ.” Tony removes his hand and reaches up to cup Peter’s cheek, “You sure that’s what you want, Pete? If I get your mouth on me I don’t know that I’m going to be able to take care of your pretty little ass tonight, baby.”

It’s Peter’s turn to make a new noise, the kids a fan of dirty talk it seems, “Yes sir, I want to please, we can—I can let you fuck me later, please sir.” He sounds desperate and Tony almost feels guilty, almost.

“Shh baby, of course I’ll let you, mouth like yours how could I say no?” Tony helps move him back to the floor, placing a warm hand on his shoulders to guide him to his knees, fingers carding through his messy hair, “You going to let me fuck your throat? Take what I want?”

Peter nods frantically into his pants-covered thigh, “Yes, whatever you want sir.” Distantly Tony wonders if him still being clothed is making Peter feel uncomfortable, like there’s some sort of a power balance, or if maybe he’s getting off on it, knowing Tony’s in control. He runs his hands through Peter’s curly hair gripping tightly and guiding him to his erection, rubbing his check against it before letting Peter take control, his mouth running up the underside of his cock before taking the head in his mouth.

“Oh, fuck. That’s good kid, just like that.” He’s trying not to think about how good Peter is at this, how much practice it took him to be able to deep throat Tony like a pro. He can feel his throat constricting around him every time Peter pushes himself forward, gagging noises faint but there, tears probably building up underneath the blindfold.

“You ready, Pete?” He takes the moan the kid makes around his cock as permission and uses his right hand to grip his hair tight before fucking up into his mouth. “Good boy,” he grunts and looks down to see the blindfold starting to get wet spots, it shouldn’t have been a turn on, but it was. “Tastes good doesn’t it baby? This is what you wanted right?” He takes that moment to hold Peter’s head down, listening for the little gasps and gulps as he does, he lets up and Peter pulls all the way back, Tony’s cock falling from his mouth spit and snot streaking his face from crying.

“Touch yourself. You can come baby, I know how hard this is making you, me using you like this. I can see it.”

Peter uses a hand to pump Tony’s cock, the wet slap of his hand like music to Tony’s ears before moving his hand to his own and re-doubling his efforts on Tony. The gagging harder to hide as he starts to lose control of his hips, fucking up into his own hand and forcing his head down into Tony’s lap.

Tony reaches out to the back of Peter’s head and undoes the knot in the blindfold— he can see that it hits the kid like a freight train when he rips it off, his orgasm coming all at once, tears still streaming down his cheeks. To his credit he doesn’t stop sucking, his hand coated in his own semen moving up to work the base of Tony’s cock, adding to the drool and mess Tony’s already made.

“Next time I’m going to fuck you until you cry, kid. I’m not going to stop until you’re coming dry for me.” He moves his hands from his hair to the sides of his face and pushes into his mouth hard one final time, letting out an unsteady breath as he feels Peter’s throat contract around him, swallowing everything he’s given.

Tony loosens his grip and watches Peter slowly pull off of him, putting his face into Tony’s thigh, breath ragged when Peter asks if ‘it’ was good.

Despite just releasing his brain through his cock Tony is quick to react. Putting his hands under Peters arms, he hauls him into his lap before slotting his mouth over the boy’s, tongue swiping against the roof of his mouth, anywhere it can reach. “You were amazing. It was amazing.”

“Thank you Mr. Stark,” he mumbles against his lips, going back in for a kiss, soft and sweet this time “What about—“

“Don’t think about anything right now, ok?” Tony all but begs, “We can talk about all of this in the morning, ok?”

“Ok.” Peter looks at him with what Tony’s decided to describe as a smile, and that’s enough for him.

“Ok.”

 


End file.
